


any other day

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their stumble to the bed is short. The night is long. And, they have absolutely no idea if this will end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	any other day

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. the sex pollen fic I have always wanted to attempt.  
> 2\. i miss writing unrepentant hansens so this is that too.  
> 3\. for once, I was told to write linearly and I did?? (also, why do i still miss pr like this sobs)

 

When Striker’s visor cracks, they both react the same.

The flashing warnings and the blaring alarms are hardly helping but they are pulling back in swift succession to a punch they still manage to land. Barely. But it gives them the necessary second to breathe before the Kaiju is coming at them again with renewed vigour.

Its eyes glinting as it seems to find them among the angel wings stabilizers and the chest missiles and the sting blades.

The next collision hits them hard. Enough so that he can feel the give of the ocean floor beneath Striker’s feet when the Kaiju bears down its full weight on their Jaeger. The crack becomes a splinter that splits across their entire visor when it takes aim.

Chuck doesn’t turn to him in the Conn-Pod because he cannot afford to look away from any of the displays that are still working as he bites this out.

“We’ve got to get—”

He also doesn’t finish his sentence because his co-pilot is more than aware of what has to come next or this city might not see daybreak at all. There really isn’t an or else here for them. Herc grits his teeth and tries to maneuver the sting blades underneath the tough epidermal plating where the Kaiju might just be a little easier to pierce through.

The little distance that they had between them and the monstrosity is brought to a sudden zero when Striker’s blade finally sinks through. It almost tips them entirely off balance. They drive it up, muscles burning beneath their circuitry suits as Striker follows their motion, drawing the sharp edge along its torso for a kill.

The Kaiju slams into them a final time, the force of it causing Striker to stagger back.

But the damage is already done.

When Striker’s visor finally shatters, it is the salty ocean winds that hit them first.

Then it is a spray of blue vapours accompanying the last dying screech that the Kaiju lets out before it is sinking to their feet. Chuck’s litany of curses continues, and that is about the only thing that doesn’t change.

 

“I’m good.”

He stands still and tells the techs just that while they help him out of his drivesuit, bolt by bolt then piece by piece until he is left standing in his circuitry suit. And when that too comes off, he is quick to step into his change of clothes.

It is routine at this point, practiced for Chuck and ingrained into Herc.

He hardly needs to look over to the other side of the room to know the kid is doing the exact same thing. It would be mechanical too if it isn’t for the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. That, like everything else when they are fresh out of a drift, is a perfect match.

“Junior?” Their head tech turns to the other half of Striker and asks.

Chuck pulls his shirt over his head and emerges with his helmet hair sticking up at all angles again, “It’s all good.”

By the time Striker’s crew managed to wrench open the Conn-Pod door and get their pilots out, the faint film of blue that they were sprayed with has dissipated. And by an easy enough decision made with a single glance from co-pilot to co-pilot, the two of them do not bring it up. Admittedly the pair isn’t exactly known for their brilliant ideas, and this one might be their worst one yet.

For Chuck, it goes a little like if it hasn’t killed them the moment it hits them, it is hardly about to kill them now. And for Herc, it really isn’t all that different. The last time they came into contact with a new silicon based Kaiju substance, they were exiled to decontamination for a week while they waited for lab results to come back prior to being let out of their prisons. They are on the same page here.

At the end of the day, the both of them would rather be anywhere else than medical having vials after vials of their blood drawn before being passed on to K-Science to be sampled from.

It starts like it always does, with a damn stupid idea the both of them come to a mutual agreement on.

 

His heart isn’t racing but his skin gets warmer to the touch.

He is also standing in the shower with his hand around the base of his erect cock while he watches his release go down the drain. Herc only finds himself thinking he is hardly young anymore before he startles as Chuck’s fist bangs once against the metal door to the bathroom where it reverberates with an echo.

“I’m still inside your head.”

He announces like it is anything new.

“So, _what_?” Herc lets out from between his teeth because now is really not the time for the kid to fill his brat bingo card.

They have a system for these kinds of things. No sane pair of drift partners sharing a headspace for this long has stayed on active duty for just as long without one. Theirs goes a little like everything else in their lives, and they do not end up talking about it at all. When he sees it, he pretends he doesn’t. This applies in both real life and the trigger memories within the drift.

So, Hercules does not understand why the kid is growling from the other side now.

“I _know_ what you’re doing.”

Herc shuts off the water and counts that as an answer. Any other time, he might not have even done as much.

When the metal door opens with a groan, he is still dripping wet but he isn’t going to be shy about it even if Chuck is marching in like this pains him just as much.

“I can feel it too.”

Chuck states this as plainly as he can while his hand goes to press against the tent in his sweats. Herc can feel the pressure on his erection like it is his own damn hand even if his fingers are clutching a towel he is using to catch the stray droplets from his hair. The steam from the shower curls around them, and there isn’t a single trace of the blue mist over them but they are feelings the effects all too well.

That much is obvious.

 

There is still control for them.

It is not any kind of overwhelming desire that consumes and burns everything in its path. Instead, it comes at them like a slow boil but actions like these have consequences. This is the both of them coming into a second agreement that they’d really rather be here than with anyone else.

They can call it convenience.

They can call it anything really.

Herc wants them to be quick about this when he closes his hand around them both, his fingers spanning the combined girth as he keeps the rhythm steady. He doesn’t know how the kid likes it and he isn’t about to think about it but then Chuck is dropping his head down on his shoulder and his mouth is pressing messy smears of what must be kisses across his neck.

It feels like he is caught inside a feedback loop and he is not about to get out. The need for release mounts and mounts. He is panting against the hollow of his throat, and they both know they are close. It is far from being in the middle of the drift but there is some resemblance to it they cannot defy.

Chuck’s sweats are shoved down to his thighs and his grey tee is now damp with the water from Herc’s shower. Neither one of them brings the boundaries back between them.

When they come, they almost don’t notice at all.

Herc only draws back when he feels the stickiness of it coating his hand and the rest splattering across his stomach. Chuck glances down and bites back a low noise of frustration.

“It’s not going down.”

Chuck kindly points out, like the evidence isn’t making itself quite clear, there, right between them. But his skin isn’t just warm either, he is slowly burning hot against him and his eyes are blown wider. The arousal is clear, the heightened sensory need for more and more like electricity crackling across his skin wherever they touch.

 _Okay, this is not good._ Herc finds himself thinking when his mouth is on him and his hands are going for his clothes in a very specific manner that he isn’t about to use the word tearing to describe. But it does come quite close when a button almost comes loose.

“Fuck, dad, this is bad.”

And of course, it is now when his shirt is on the ground and his pants are around his ankles that Chuck wants to call him _dad_.

 

There is probably something like aversion based loosely on morals that should keep them from continuing at all. There are also enough regrets in this lifetime to make up for their next and their next, and probably the one after that too.

When Chuck’s hand closes around Herc’s wrist and brings his fingers into his mouth, his bottom teeth graze sharply against his fingertips. Herc can feel just how his tongue shifts at the intrusion and the spit that gathers. The sensation keeping them both on edge and fixating further when he has a hard time looking anywhere else. Herc slowly draws out to replace his fingers with his lips instead and returns the bite with just as much fervour. He sinks his teeth down, not hard enough to draw blood because that isn't what they are looking for here.

“You really think this’ll work?” Chuck asks, pulling back with a wet pant and into the hand that Herc kept at the back of his neck.

He gets as far as he wants, he doesn’t get far at all.

And here is the thing that many people cannot understand, there is hardly anything left to wreck.

“There’s only one way to find out, kid.”

Their stumble to the bed is short. The night is long. And they have absolutely no idea if this will end well. When his back hits the mattress, Herc has a feeling it can’t be entirely bad. After all, it is about gratification and having their fill and Herc isn’t about to stop it right here now.

 

There is probably some kind of pain but there is barely a sting when Chuck finally presses inside, the head of his cock fitting then pushing in to fill him whole. Chuck’s hips meet the swell of his arse and they are both flushed against the other. Chuck lets out a groan like he too is being filled to the brim.

Herc feels like he should say something but all he can do is drag in a breath of air into his lungs as he adjusts and shifts until the kid gets the hint that he needed him to move and he needed him to do just that almost twenty minutes ago. Herc is not particularly meticulous about the prep, and he was almost tempted to have Chuck open him up on his cock alone. But the kid is surprisingly considerate when he eases him on to his back with one flat palm and gives him two fingers from the start. The twist of his wrist and each shallow thrust is a little sloppy when there is too much lube and his cock is leaking precum across the head and down the shaft.

But he brings him close enough to have him rasping out _more_.

“You should really see yourself right now, old man.”

It sits between them before Chuck realizes it slipped out at all, and it is clear he wants to take that back. Herc also wants to be irritated but it is still all a thick haze of pleasure. Herc moves to angle his hips so the next thrust knocks the breath out of them both. He can’t be the only one here seeing stars.

Because there is no deprecation in Chuck’s words, just awe.

“I’m going to make you come just from this.”

“Then you might have to try a little harder, kid.”

Even as he says this, Herc knows it’s a lie because he has come twice but he is already so close, his hands reaching out to clutch at Chuck's shoulders.

 

He has no idea if he can come again but he is still hard even if he thinks he must have blacked out for a couple of minutes. His knees have become all too familiar with the rough scratch of the sheets and he is sure the centre of the bed is soaked with his cum. He is also aching at the jaw, and if Chuck’s voice is any indication, he is sounding pretty hoarse too from when he went down on him out of some misplaced wish to _taste_ like he hasn’t just about drag his tongue across his entire body already.

Chuck makes a noise, low in his throat as he hauls him by the hip and into his lap. Herc feels like the worst of it has subsided when he leans forward and presses his forehead to his. With the kid letting him free reigns to wind his arms around his neck, there are boundaries here between them that have been grounded into dust. Still, their skin is no longer fever hot to the touch and he can see the blue in those eyes instead of twin thin rings. The two of them are also not rutting together in frantic, halting movements.

They have slowed down, considerably so. It is satisfying even if they haven’t completely stopped.

But when Chuck tips his head back, he hardly needs to say what he wants.

Herc moves to kiss him, mouth parting and the push of his tongue sliding against his own is almost done in reflex at this point.

His hand still comes up to rest against the back of the kid’s neck.

“Told you it’ll work.”

Chuck lets out a huff of what almost makes a laugh, and this time they move in tandem to have Chuck pressing back inside of him once more. The slick noises it makes is almost embarrassing but so is the semen running down the inside of his thighs and the bite marks across his chest, most noticeably the one around a nipple, and all those other unmistakable bruises in the shape of his fingers and his mouth.

Rangers are hardly just brute strength but they are that too.

When Herc lifts up, Chuck draws him back down with his hands clamping down tight around those hips. The blunt nails of his thumbs are digging crescent moons into the skin there and it feels a lot like he is looking to mark him to his bones.

He sighs his name when he comes, and he presses the same messy kisses against his neck. Each time he thinks he might be seeing stars, he is just seeing him filling every single corner of his field of vision.

 

They do not wake up in the bed they rode out the last of the blues.

Herc barely has his eyes opened before he registers the fact that his bed is pretty much done for from across the room. They are in Chuck’s bed and it is about as comfortable as two grown men sharing a singles can get but it beats lying in sheets soaked in his own release. When he sits up with the kid’s arm thrown over him, heavy duvets still surrounding them, it all feels a whole lot like a very bad dream. Quite unlike this bad taste in his mouth though, hardly anything sticks anymore.

Herc breathes out and he doesn’t even have the strength to hate himself at this moment.

“Fucking hell.”

His jaw aches like he was knocked out by a particularly well-aimed uppercut and he has no wish to look down at the state of the rest of his body if Chuck’s bare shoulder from where the duvet slipped off is any indication. Herc breathes in and feels like he could just about choke on a dry tumbling laugh.

He tucks his knees closer to his chest, not enough to jostle the kid next to him but just enough so he can drop his head atop his knees. There is no headache. There is only a bodily ache that keeps him from falling back asleep. The mirthless chuckle he lets out for himself is really more than kinder than anything he deserves. Because it looks bad, it looks really really bad.

Herc wants to think he has an idea how long he sits there but when the duvets pull and the kid is finally blinking his bleary eyes up at him, Chuck greets him like it is any other day.

“Mornin’.”

An apology means just about naught here but Herc still has to say it.

“I did a number on you.”

And as sore as he is, Herc gets out of bed like hardly a thing has changed even if the mess is infinitely worse. The silence behind him doesn’t help when he is picking up the clothes strewn across the room and stripping the sheets off of his bed to be cleaned, hoping to himself that the reek of sex will dissipate in a short amount of time.

He only turns when Chuck lets out a snort.

“I didn’t do so bad myself.”

He sounds almost proud. Because of course, the kid’s got to fill another square on his brat bingo card when he makes this into a competition too and settles further in the bed. This time, Herc doesn’t say anything and pulls the metal door to the bathroom behind him like it is another morning but the smile over his face is different. Actions have consequences, and here is his.

He knows just what he likes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 4\. let us pretend max is somewhere safe and far away from this clusterfuck y/y


End file.
